The State of Kings
by Miles Above My Head
Summary: One thing stands between this type of love. Well, two things. First, place. They weren't in the same place. They were too far away for her liking. Second, people. And that's where he came into play.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: The State of Kings

**Main characters**: Natara W., Mal F., Chandler M., Blaise C.

**Synopsis**: One thing stands between this type of love. Well, two things. First, place. They weren't in the same place. They were too far away for her liking. Second, people. And that's where he came into play.

**Inspiration**:

_When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,_

_I all alone beweep my outcast state_

_And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries_

_And look upon myself and curse my fate,_

_Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,_

_Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,_

_Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,_

_With what I most enjoy contented least;_

_Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,_

_Haply I think on thee, and then my state,_

_Like to the lark at break of day arising_

_From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;_

_For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings_

_That then I scorn to change my state with kings._

-Sonnet 29 (Shakespeare)

And also, the books of John Green. Particularly _An Abundance of Katherines_, _Paper Towns_, _The Fault in Our Stars_, and_ Looking for Alaska_.

_Dedicated to my mother_.

**Author's Note**: I decided to do this a bit differently. As differently as fanfiction can get, anyway. It's a bit more organized with a new format. This is dedicated, also, to my mother.

Because she deserves love this strong. And not my father's - excuse me - bullshit.

Let me know what you think, please, and happy reading!

**Chapter One**:

Geography was always my least favorite subject in high school. I hated remembering all of the different places. I hated maps; they made places look so close together whereas they were extremely vast and far apart.

It's rather ironic that in high school, I hated geography; now geography seems to hate me.

I still don't know much of geography except that San Francisco is there and Florida is here. I don't know exactly how far or exactly how long it would take to get there, but my guesses are that it is far, and a long time.

I don't know much about love either. They didn't offer an explanation of love as an elective in school, nor does the dictionary adequately describe it, in my opinion.

I may have been smart in high school, some may even have dared to say I was a nerd. But the two things I didn't like for lack of understanding were geography and love.

Now you might think, as I've reached the age of thirty-one, these things don't haunt me anymore. High school and college and my life as a student then is long since over.

You would be wrong. Well, partially.

Perhaps I should clarify. I still don't understand love. I don't understand where it comes from or how to find it or exactly what to do when you find it. I don't understand why it's so powerful, so important, why it feels so wonderful to be in love. I don't understand any of those details, which is why it still scares me. I don't understand it, and I don't know why, but I know it's what I feel for him.

This is where we collide with the geography mishap.

"When are you coming back to San Fransisco?" Mal says. I imagine how his face would look if I could see it. He'd be giving me his puppy-dog expression that always made me give in to him.

"You know I can't. I have to stay here; it's my job," I say.

"Just to visit?" he pleads. When Mal abandons his pride and starts begging, I know there's a problem.

"Mal, you'll see me at Christmas in a month. What's the matter?"

"I miss you," he says, then hesitates. He is hiding something. "Blaise told me she likes me. A lot."

I laugh lightly, but I am ashamed at the amount of jealousy I feel, hearing those words.

"I wish I could come visit, really I do. But you're across the country. If you were still down the street, you know I'd be there in a heartbeat." A light tapping on my door interrupts me. I rise from the bed and open it, coming face to face with my partner, Chandler Matton.

"Hey, Chandler. What's up?" I cover my phone to muffle my voice in Mal's ear.

"Just wanted to see if you'd like to get some dinner. Captain wants us back at the precinct in a little so I figured we could go get something to eat and then head over there."

The Miami Police Department was one of the friendliest environments I've ever worked in, and it has the nicest people. But it still was no San Francisco, partially, I realize, because San Francisco has Mal.

"Sure just let me finish up this phone call, okay?"

He nods so I leave him in the doorway and walk away, talking quieter into my phone.

"Mal, I have to go," I say.

"Who was that you were talking to?" he asks.

I frown slightly. "It was my partner. My new partner," I amend quickly. "His name is Chandler."

"Oh," he says.

"We're going to get something to eat and then we have to go back into work, okay? I'll call you once I'm finished."

He is silent for a moment and then, "Okay," he says. "I'll talk to you later, Nat."

"I love you," I whisper.

"Love you too," he says, and the line goes dead.

Chandler walks inside and looks at my nightstand.

"Not too busy, I hope," he says, referring to the complex construction made entirely of playing cards I had built earlier that day, which still stood on the table precariously.

I grin. "Not at all."

I grab my jacket and he opens the door again for me. I step out and he shuts the door behind us. Back on the table, the tower of cards falls.

And it remains there in a heap of clutter until I return at midnight and collapse on my bed, immediately asleep.

* * *

**Author's Note**: I wonder if anyone picked up on the symbolism in this chapter. Let me know!


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: The State of Kings

**Main Characters**: Natara W., Mal Fallon., Chandler M.

**Synopsis**: One thing stands between this type of love. Well, two things. First, place. They weren't in the same place. They were too far away for her liking. Second, people. And that's where he came into play.

**Inspiration**:

Adversity is like a strong wind. It tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are.

-Arthur Golden

**Author's Note**: Thank God you figured out the symbolism, well, mostly. BreezyFan, I salute you. For those of you that didn't read the reviews because you're meanies and decided I didn't deserve a review, I will quote it now. (The relevant part to this discussion, anyway.)

"The minute Natara left with him [Chandler], the card house (the thing she made before Chandler came, so basically it stands for Mal&Natara's relationship right?) collapsed.." -BreezyFan

Right, so you're correct in saying it was the card house that was the symbolism. I thought of that idea when I was making card houses this week and I got to the fourth story before it collapsed every time.

So yes, it is the card house. And I must say that the idea that it symbolizes their relationship part is quite appealing to me (as a writer, not a Mal and Natara fan). But I am a slightly huge Mal and Natara fan (disregarding Oscar), and I'm hoping that their relationship does not fall apart. Hoping, but of course, no promises.

They sort of do what they want. The characters tell the story, not the writer.

So actually, the card house was attempting to symbolize the structure of life itself. It represents Natara's life, standing precariously on its own after leaving Mal back in San Francisco. And falling as the door slammed shut was an idea of how easily a life can fall apart because of one, little thing.

Because of one person.

And that is made clear, I hope, in the first full paragraph of this chapter. Congratulations again to BreezyFan for that wonderful observation and I am extremely grateful, because I'm always afraid that if I use symbolism, no one will notice.

_This chapter is dedicated to my dad._

_Who lies a lot._

__(P.S. Speaking of my dad, I just realized I probably get that trait from him. I mean, I'm aiming to be an author when I graduate high school and college. And when you think about it, that's basically choosing a career where I make up really long, extremely entertaining lies for a living.

Thanks, daddy.)

**Chapter Two**:

"Have you met any nice people yet?" Mal asks.

* * *

My life is and has always been fragile. I know all lives are precious and delicate, but I've always felt like mine personally was on the edge of disaster constantly.

I suppose it has to do with my job. I haven't explained that yet. I said I worked at the San Francisco Police Department and now I'm at the Miami Police Department. I moved because I'm not a detective that gets to work in one place; I'm an FBI agent. A profiler, to be specific. I had been sent to help the SFPD with one case in particular, and now it is over.

Now I'm here in Miami.

When I had first stepped off the plane, I felt nauseous. In fact, I was so thoroughly depressed that Mal stayed up with me on the phone all night. We didn't even talk; I laid in bed and listened to the silence between us. It was strangely comforting.

The next day when I went into work, I was exhausted and looked absolutely awful. Captain Picard (I know, ironic, right?) called me into his office, where my newly assigned partner sat waiting. He'd grinned at me and I recall my feeble attempt to smile back had brought that look to his face. I call it his Discussion Look. He dons it whenever he is arguing, debating, thinking, or confused.

The captain dismissed us and the man waved me into his office.

"Hello, Natara," he said. "Its a pleasure to be working with you."

"Well I'm really grateful for the opportunity to be here," I answered untruthfully.

"You don't seem too grateful to be here," he said. "It doesn't take a profiler to figure that one out."

I smiled grudgingly at this. "Your name is Chandler, right? You remind me of my old partner..." I trailed off sadly, leaving an uncomfortable silence.

"Do you miss San Francisco?" he asked uncertainly.

"I don't think it's so much San Francisco as..." I hesitated, but he watched at me patiently. "I miss my old partner Mal."

"Oh," he said thoughtfully. "You two were close?"

I nodded tearfully.

"Well," he replied, "I hope you and I can become close as well. I feel partners work best that way, don't you?"

"Yeah," I answer slowly.

"So would you like to go out to dinner sometime?"

Chandler Matton has light brown hair that sticks up messily in a playful puff. He runs his hands through it while he talks, and it seems to get fluffier the more stressed he becomes. He also has amazing, big brown eyes. They are nothing like Mal's blue ones, which make me feel like I'm drowning in the calmest, clearest blue lake imaginable.

Chandler is slightly taller than me. He is almost the same height in relation to me as Mal is, which makes me feel more at home. In fact, he reminds me so much of Mal that I almost -_ almost_ - say yes.

Then I realize what he just said.

"Can you take me to dinner?" I repeated, frowning. "Like, a date, you mean?"

"You're sort of ruining it by explaining it all, but yes." He paused hesitantly, then added, "You're really beautiful, Natara."

I smiled apologetically. "Chandler, I'm sorry. I'm in a relationship. And we're kind of serious."

"Oh, no, I'm sorry. Is it someone back in San Francisco?"

I nodded and grinned. "His name is Mal."

"Of course!" He laughed. "The famous ex-partner!" I smiled. "He's a lucky man," Chandler said.

"He knows," I said quietly.

"I'd still love to take you out to dinner," Chandler said. "To welcome you to town."

"That'd be wonderful." I grinned. Maybe it wouldn't be so tortuous being here after all.

He did take me out to dinner, to the fanciest restaurant, it seemed, on this side of the country.

"That must have cost a fortune," I said as he walked me up to my motel room. "You didn't have to do that just for me."

"You deserved it," he replied. "Let that be a foreshadowing of how great of a time you'll have here."

We got to my room and I turned the key and entered.

"Well, thank you, Chandler." I turned back to him. "For everything. I really needed a friend right now."

I'm not sure if I said something wrong, or if it was the wine he had ordered at dinner, or that it was late and we were tired, or that I hadn't done a good enough job telling him that I was with Mal.

But something happened, and for some reason he leaned in, and for some reason I didn't move, and for some reason he kissed me.

And we stood there forever, him kissing me. I stood there rather stiffly, not moving, not thinking, not reacting.

I think that is what shock feels like.

But initial shock did fade. Admittedly it took several minutes, and oddly my lack of reaction hadn't dispirited my new partner.

But the shock had transitioned into panic, and my brain sped into thought at hyperspeed. My thoughts ran together in senseless oblivion until one landed at the end of the chain and chanted itself in repetition.

Stop kissing him. And so I pushed myself away.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm sorry," he replied unfazed.

"You're sorry? How does that fix anything?" I say exasperatedly. "Mal..."

"Is in San Francisco," he volunteered. "Is across the country. It's not like you have to tell him that happened."

I stared at him coldly until he finished with, "It won't happen again."

We stared at each other for a while longer, but when it became clear that I wouldn't be forming a coherent string of words any time soon, he turned uncertainly and walked away.

I mechanically snapped the door shut and collapsed on my bed. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and unlocked it, opening to Mal's contact. My finger hovered over the "call" button for two hours, before my eyelids drooped, my hand went limp, and the phone landed next to me with a small thud.

As I drifted off, my shock-turned-panic became guilt as my drowsy brain realized what just happened. I don't know why I didn't call Mal. I don't know why I panicked when my job requires quick thinking in spontaneous situations and I'm usually quite adept at it.

I don't know why, but I dreamt that those big brown eyes were blinking innocently at me. The crystal lake nowhere in sight.

* * *

"Nope," I answer. "Not anyone in particular."

"Don't worry," Mal says comfortingly. "I'm sure someone will turn up soon."

I smile although he can't see and say, "Yeah. I'll make new friends soon enough."

I can practically see him winking jokingly as he replies, "Just no one to replace the ones you already have back here! Amy and Kai miss you a lot," he concedes. "But not as much as I do."

I hear myself agree and he continues to update me on life back in San Francisco. I vaguely hear him tell me again how excited he is to see me at Christmas.

"I miss you too," I say quietly and zone out again.

I want to go back home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: The State of Kings

**Main Characters**: Natara W., Mal F., Chandler M.

**Synopsis**: One thing stands between this type of love. Well, two things. First, place. They weren't in the same place. They were too far away for her liking. Second, people. And that's where he came into play.

**Inspiration**: "True love is felonious… You take someone's breath away… You rob them of the ability to utter a single word… You steal a heart." -Jody Picoult

**Author's Note**: Dear person wondering if everything is okay with me because of my dedications,

Yes.

Love, me.

Thank you for the reviews; they were very sweet and they made my day. Thank you for caring, which is also very sweet. And I don't know what else to say now because it's three am and I have to wake up in three hours...

_Dedicated to my dad again._

_Thank you for inspiring this chapter. I hope it was worth it._

**Chapter Three**:

I know now that when Mal surprises me with a visit, I should quickly put out a news bulletin warning everyone in Miami. Particularly Chandler.

I climb out of bed and pull on a robe in the darkness. Mal sits up and, making sure his lower half is still under the blanket, asks, "Who's that?"

I make my way to the door grumbling, and find Chandler on the other side. He stares at me through the small wedge between the wall and the door, as I haven't opened it fully.

"Yes?" I say quietly, annoyed.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

I clear my throat. "Um, do you need something?"

"Yeah, I just wanted to know if we could talk."

"Talk about what?" I say, raising my voice. "Now isn't really the best time."

"Who is it?" Mal repeats from the bed.

Chandler's eyes flash with something I don't recognize, and I have a horrible suspicion he knows who is with me.

"I wanted to talk about what happened between us a few nights ago," he says loudly. Suspicions confirmed.

"Who is that?" Mal repeats, so I sigh and open the door all the way and step aside.

I gesture to my partner in the doorway. "Mal, this is Chandler. Chandler," I wave towards the bed, "Mal, my ...boyfriend."

After seven months, that word still tastes odd in my mouth. I'm not sure if it's because it's Mal, and he was my best friend and nothing more for so long, or because it's so perfect and full of possibilities, or if it's because it's Mal, and I can't believe I'm so lucky.

"Hello," Mal says stiffly. "And you're here at," He checks the clock beside the bed, "Nine-thirty because...?"

Chandler smiles bitterly, and a shiver runs down my spine. Nothing good can come of that smile.

"I came to talk to Natara."

I shake my head as briefly as I can, but Mal notices.

"Talk to my girlfriend about what?" He emphasizes the word girlfriend and I refrain from grimacing. Possession is not attractive on him. Neither is jealousy.

"I came to discuss our kiss," Chandler says clearly, and my eyes widen.

"That is a bit misleading," I say quietly.

"What?"

"That lie you just told."

"What is he talking about, Natara?" Mal asks.

"Well..." I hesitate. This is definitely going to end just great. "A few nights ago, Chandler kissed me."

"And it was great," Chandler added, gaining a supremely disgusted look from me.

"Right, every satisfied girl pushes you away and starts yelling."

"I'm sorry, I'm confused," Mal says, looking as though he'd very much like to stand up and punch something (preferably my new partner), and looking very annoyed at the fact that he was restrained from doing so. "You two kissed?"

I walk over to him and sit down. "Mal, I wanted to tell you, I swear. I didn't want you to blow this out of proportion. He kissed me; I stopped him. It isn't that big of a deal." I touch his arm softly and his eyes harden. "You know I love you, Mal."

But that isn't enough, I know it won't be. Telling him I love him isn't going to take away the fact that he feels cheated on, which is the exact reason I didn't tell him, I realize. I stare darkly at Chandler until he speaks.

"It's my fault," Chandler says. "Really, it is. I'm sorry for intruding."

"No," Mal says softly, and my eyes flicker to him. "No, it's very convenient that you came."

"Mal," I say. He shakes his head.

"I should go," Chandler says uncomfortably, looking unreasonably apologetic.

"No," Mal repeats in the same tone. "No, you should stay."

And with that, he stands up, sheets and all, and walks past Chandler.

"I wouldn't want to intrude on anything you were planning," he says, voice breaking, as he walks out the door. "I'm sorry."

"Mal," I cry, jumping up and running after him. "Mal, stop!"

He inexplicably has an immensely huge lead, but I bound down the stairs after him. It is raining.

"Mal," I scream, running to catch up and grabbing him. "Stop!"

He jerks his arm away. "True love is felonious," he says.

I am left standing dumbstruck in the downpour until I regain my senses and run back inside, where Chandler is still standing.

"Whatthehellisthematterwithyo u?" I say, running at him and punching him in the jaw.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know he would be here, and I figured you'd told him already. If I was in a 'serious relationship,' I would've told my girlfriend..."

"You asshole," I growl angrily.

"Natara, I'm sorry. Really, I am. Come on, it's going to be fine, I promise," he says.

"Why should I believe anything you say?" I say.

"Because I didn't do this on purpose, and because I clearly care about you, and because you should trust your partner, and because I'm sorry," he says. "I know what helps after fights."

And he drags me out of the room, and back into the rain.

In case you don't have as much experience as I do at this point in my life, and in case you find yourself in this situation, and in case you don't enjoy screwing up, I'm going to offer my advice.

When a man that just singlehandedly ruined the best relationship you've ever been in drags you to a bar at night, don't go.

When you get very drunk, don't listen when he says he'll help you home.

When you get back from the bar, and you're very drunk, and you have the inexplicable urge to do dumb things with the asshat, don't.

They say experience comes right after you need it.

They're right.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title**: The State of Kings

**Main Characters**: Natara W., Mal F., Chandler M.

**Synopsis**: One thing stands between this type of love. Well, two things. First, place. They weren't in the same place. They were too far away for her liking. Second, people. And that's where he came into play.

**Inspiration**: "Twilight gets at the point that true love will triumph in the end, which may or may not be true, but if it's a lie, it's the most beautiful lie we have!"

-John Green (paraphrased)

**Author's Note**: I give my permission to let this suck, I will stop freaking about trying to make it perfect, and I sincerely thank everyone who disagrees with me on that part.

Also, thank you. My pen name comes from a line of a poem by my favorite poet Edna St. Vincent Millay.

"But, sure, the sky is big, I said;

Miles and miles above my head."

And yeah, the last chapter was dedicated to my dad because I find it easiest to write about things I have experienced or observed firsthand.

That's partially why I have no idea, yet, how this is going to end.

And I'm really sorry this is SO short!

_This chapter is dedicated to my pop-pop, who didn't come back to life._

**Chapter Four**:

"Natara, I'm going to tell you something if you swear you won't panic," is a line that always causes me to panic.

"Okay," I say. "How bad can it be?"

Chandler frowns at me. "I'm serious. Can you...can you sit down or something first?"

"Sit down or promise not to punch you again?"

"Both, preferably." Him not smiling at that scares me, so I sit.

"Okay, just tell me. Seriously, it can't be that bad," I say.

"Your boyfriend was in Miami last night," Chandler begins, and I laugh bitterly.

"He isn't my boyfriend anymore, is he? Because of you," I say. "Really? I wasn't aware he was here. I must have missed that."

"Natara," he says quietly and I fall silent. "Natara, he's gone."

"I assumed he went home by now, yes."

"No, Nat. He's dead."

I laugh humorlessly again. "That's not funny, Chan. Listen, I know you feel bad about last night, but can we please just forget it? This isn't funny at all." His face remains impassive. "Chandler. Chandler this isn't funny, can you hear me? Chandler!" I jump up, near screaming in his face. "Chandler Matton, this is the sickest joke in the world!"

"Nat, Mal is-"

"No!" I scream and the door bursts open. "No, he's nothing!" I say, and several people burst into the room. "No!" They grab hold of my arms and hands, which are visibly looking for something to hit. "No! He's fine; he's fine!" They start to pull me outside and my face is streamed with angry tears. Why won't Chandler admit this is a joke? Why won't he tell them? Tell them he was just kidding, tell them to bring me back so we can start working on the next homicide case.

Because, I realize, Mal is the next homicide case.

* * *

I don't know how I got here, or who brought me, or when, but I end up in my motel room again. I take to lying on the bed, dialing Mal's number mechanically, waiting for a greeting that I'll never hear. Never hear again.

He wouldn't have gotten killed if he hadn't been walking alone at night.

He wouldn't be, I shudder when I think the word, dead if he had stayed inside with me.

He wouldn't have been off guard if he wasn't thinking about me.

So there are only two logical conclusions to be made; two people to take the blame.

Either Chandler or I.

My phone continues to dial that familiar number that will one day be someone else's. I'll probably still be calling then. I'll still be waiting for someone I love.

My tears come faster and with less restraint as I consider the possibility that it is my fault he is dead. I can't bear that thought, so I'm going to have to blame Chandler. I have to tell myself that it was him showing up, him kissing me, him telling Mal...

But then, on the fortieth call, the rings stop short and I hear a long drawn in breath of air and a crackle on the other line. I stare confused at my phone for a second, wondering if this is the wrong number. It isn't.

"H-hello?" I say feebly into the phone.

"Natara," gasps a hoarse voice from the other line.

"Mal?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Title**: The State of Kings

**Main Characters**: Natara W., Mal F., Chandler M.

**Synopsis**: One thing stands between this type of love. Well, two things. First, place. They weren't in the same place. They were too far away for her liking. Second, people. And that's where he came into play.

**Inspiration**:

"By the middle of the first season

Murder is eclipsed by sexual tension

And I guess that probably happens a lot

Since crime-solving people are always so hot

But then a serial killer kidnaps the girl

And they promise to save her if it costs them the world

And they find her two seconds before she dies

And they hug and they laugh and they screw and they cry."

-Crime Dramas Suck by Hank Green

**Author's Note**: I have the next chapter already written! I'm on a roll! (;

_Dedicated to EA Games, because this is one crime drama that _doesn't _suck, (but would it really hurt to have some more "they hug and they laugh and they screw and they cry" after saving hostages?) :3_

**Chapter Five**:

"No," I breathe. My breaths are coming unevenly now and I can hear my heart racing in my chest. "No, you're dead."

"Nat, listen to me. I'm not dead and I don't hate you. But I will be soon; I'm dying, Natara. You can't give up. Tell Chandler and have him help you. Please Natara, you have to come help me." His voice sounds hoarse and cracks at the end. He does sound pained. But they said he was dead. Chandler said he was gone. And how did whoever took him miss the fact that he had his cellphone on him?

"Mal," I say. "Hold on. Hold on for me, okay? I'm coming. I'm going to come get you and we'll be okay."

I hear a few more crackles on the other end of the line and a cough.

"Hurry, love," I hear him say through his ragged breaths. "I am dying after all."

"I love you, Mal," I say, my voice thick with repressed tears.

"I love you too, Natara," he says. "Always." His voice breaks then and I hear him choking on the other end, which comes pretty close to causing those tears to escape at last, but I hold it in for him.

"I'm coming," I repeat before I hang up and realize that I have nowhere to go from here, nothing to go on, and no one to help. Chandler won't believe me, will he?

I decide to dial his number because every second I sit debating what to do, I am very aware of every second passing.

"Chandler," I say when he picks up. I am very aware that I sound absolutely pitiful. "I need help."

"Are you okay?" he says hurriedly.

"I'm fine, but Mal isn't."

"Natara..."

"No," I say angrily. "Listen to me. He isn't dead."

"Natara, that's denial. You should know that by now..." I hate the way his usually confident and strong voice is plagued with pity for me.

"Chandler Tobias Matton, I swear to God, if you don't believe me, I'm going to save him by myself and if I don't die, I'm going to come back and kill you myself," I say, then as an afterthought, I add, "Actually, Mal might help me since he told me to bring you."

"Natara, you're imagining it. Come on, why would he want me there? Think about it."

I frown. "Chandler, think about this. If there is any chance of saving him, 1. We're wasting time and 2. I'll have to tell him what we did and 3. He'll probably kill both of us but 4. I still want to do this. So obviously it's important to me. Will you please just...just humor me if you don't believe me?"

"Natara Williams," he says slowly, "you will be the death of me. Meet me outside the station in five minutes."

I've never seen anyone as angry as Chandler is when I tell him I have no leads as to where Mal is. I think he's prepared to strangle me, but then I offer the suggestion that Tray (our forensic tech) can trace the call.

"Are you sure he didn't say anything when he called you? Why would he just ask us to come help him and not say where he is?" I can tell Chandler is exasperated, so I decide to offer a guess.

I shrug. "Maybe he figured I already knew."

"Why would you know where some psycho is killing him?"

I wince. "Don't say that, Chandler. He isn't going to die."

"Okay, but-"

I think my face must have paled a considerable bit, because he cut his sentence short and looked at me worriedly. I'm positive my eyes widened in horror because I felt it happen, and I also felt my stomach drop painfully. I associate this feeling with my first Chandler Kiss: shock, then panic, then fear.

"I do know where you are, Mal," I whisper mostly to myself, but Chandler's face grows worried. I imagine he's afraid I'll drag him off to some serial killer's house that Mal isn't even at, since Chandler doesn't believe me in the first place. But I know there's only one person that could have escaped prison to seek revenge on Mal and I, and that was the person behind our meeting as well.

"What are you talking about, Natara?" Chandler says. "Who the hell would try to kill Mal?"

"That's just it. The only people that would want to kill him are people that we've put away in prison; people that had their lives taken away because of him. But they wanted to hurt me as well, because they knew killing him would kill me."

"So why not kill you along with him?" Chandler asks, still confused.

"Because it's someone who needs me alive, but still wants revenge, so is perfectly okay with torturing," My voice shakes. "and eventually killing Mal. Someone who believes I'll do anything to save him. Someone who thinks they can get me by using him. Someone who knew I wouldn't accept that he was dead when you told me, but knew everyone else would, and thought I would come alone to save him."

Chandler's face remains confused and I don't blame him, because he wouldn't know her mind like I do. He wouldn't understand the complexity with which she could twist everything to confuse everyone, still expect me to see through it, and use that to play into her plan at the same time.

"Who?" he asks blankly. "If there is a murderer out there like that... I'm amazed we aren't all dead already."

"That's because she's not a murderer," I explain bitterly. "She's a trainer. She's a teacher. She's their 'mother'."

He stares at me wide-eyed for me to explain further, but I only give him two more words, knowing we don't have much more time to play her game.

"Genevieve Collins."


	6. Chapter 6

**Title**: The State of Kings

**Main Characters**: Natara W., Mal F., Chandler M.

**Synopsis**: One thing stands between this type of love. Well, two things. First, place. They weren't in the same place. They were too far away for her liking. Second, people. And that's where he came into play.

**Inspiration**:

_"Razors pain you;_

_Rivers are damp;_

_Acids stain you;_

_And drugs cause cramp._

_Guns aren't lawful;_

_Nooses give;_

_Gas smells awful;_

_You might as well live."_

-Dorothy Parker

**Author's Note**:

_ For Alaska, Pudge, and the Colonel. He'll never stop looking for you, Alaska Young. For John Green, for creating them._

_Thank you._

**Chapter Six**:

When I was little, I used to try and figure out why someone would want to kill herself. That may seem like an odd thing to think of as a little kid, but my best friend's mother committed suicide, so it was often a subject of confusion and interest for me.

I tried to imagine what would make ME want to die, what would make me so miserable that I couldn't find a way that I could possibly live any longer.

I could never come up with an adequate answer.

Today, I have one.

* * *

After I explain in greater detail to Chandler who Genevieve was (rather impatiently, because I feel we're wasting time), he agrees to help me, finally. The problem is that we still don't know where they are.

"He was coughing a lot," I say for the umpteenth time. "So maybe..."

"Nat, we've been over that. There are a thousand reasons he could have been coughing," Chandler deadpans. "Just admit it, we have no idea where he-"

"Of course!" I mentally slap myself and my sudden epiphany startles Chandler. He looks at me, confused again.

"You know where he is?"

I ignore his question and reciprocate with my own. "Are there any sunflowers around here? Like, preferably a lot of them?"

"Yeah," he says. "We call it the Sunflower Scene." He smiles fondly. "It's kind of lame, but everyone loves that place. There's an old barn over there too, but it's been abandoned for years. Why?"

"Take me to it," I say. "Now. Hurry."

"You think that's where Mal is?" he asks unmoving.

"Go!" I snap impatiently and wait until he moves the car before finishing, "I know that's where he is. He's coughing because he's allergic to sunflowers."

It takes us about twenty minutes in the car before I see sunflowers, which I spend tapping my foot anxiously and Chandler shoots annoyed glances at me repeatedly.

"Do you have to do that?" he says finally. "It's annoying, and we're here."

"Chandler," I say seriously, "I want you to hide outside so you can listen."

"No way! I'm coming in with you."

"No!" I press more firmly. "Just let me handle it. You shouldn't burst in and start shooting unless absolutely necessary. I know what I'm doing. It's me she wants."

"Fine," he says. "But you aren't exchanging yourself for him, Natara, because you know none of us want that and you know it won't work; she'll kill him anyway, at least eventually. Promise?"

I look away, out across all of the sunflowers, and sigh. "Yes."

I'd imagined saving Mal many times since I'd found out he is still alive, but none of them included me walking alone into a dark, dusty, smelly old barn unarmed.

"Mal?" I call. "I'm here, Mal. Don't worry."

"He has no reason to worry," agrees a female voice. "But you do."

An eerie glow erupts and I see it is emanating from a lantern. It illuminates Mal's tired looking face. And Genevieve Collins.

"Mal." I sigh with relief, seeing he is breathing. He tries to give me a small smile, which turns mostly into an involuntarily grimace, and I see he has innumerable cuts and scrapes and is bleeding excessively.

"No gun?" Genevieve teases. "I guess you knew how this would turn out."

"I guess I did," I say.

"Natara," Mal groans from the floor, where he remains slumped. My eyes flicker to him for a second, but I don't answer.

"Why do you want him?" I ask.

"My dear, I know you're smarter than that. You know why."

I bite my lip. I do know.

"Fine, Genevieve. You can have me, you are smart enough to know that. As long as you let him go, of course."

Mal lets out a groan which I assume means he wants to disagree, but I continue to ignore his protests.

"You'd do that for him, Natara?"

I cringe slightly when she says my name. "Of course. But just know, Genevieve, that even if you have me, you'll never break me. You'll never turn me against everything I believe in. Even if you have me, Mal will be free and he will come and save me. You won't win."

She laughs lightly. "You know, prison gave me some thinking time. It really was sweet of you; it actually improved my plans. You are right, dear, I wouldn't have broken you before. But now I have everything I need."

Two men grab my arms. They had been lurking behind me all along in the shadows, and I curse myself for not realizing that of course Genevieve would have backup. She isn't a killer.

I struggle half-heartedly against my captors, who drag me to a wooden chair and bind me to it with a rope, which turns out to be more painful than I'd imagined.

"Now," Genevieve says sweetly. "Let's bet, shall we boys? How long will it take to break the brilliant mind of Natara Williams? I'm going to say an hour tops, if we're lucky."

I scowl at her and the men that tied me to the chair let out cruel laughs in answer to their "mother."

"I realized," Genevieve explains. "that I can't break you like the others. I have to use something that has meaning to you alone."

Her gaze drops and I follow it to the pain-paralyzed lump on the ground that is Mal Fallon.

"No," I whisper in horror. "Not him. Anything but him."

"You aren't really in the bargaining position, Natara," she says and let's out a cold, mirthless laugh. "Now watch, and prepare to succumb to the ways of my children."

* * *

I never knew what it would take to make me want to die. To make me so irreparably broken that I would never want to see the light of day again, never want to see people again, never want to taste a cool breath of fresh air.

Seeing Mal tortured in front of my eyes, close enough that I can see every drop of blood, every tear. Hearing his screams, his pleading... I finally have my answer.

My face is dirty and tear stained; my wrists are bleeding from struggling against the ropes that hold me away from Mal. My throat is raw and hoarse from screaming.

Death would be less painful than this, I realize. Death would be the easy way out. Death would be a small price to pay for the end of this agony.

And five minutes later, I am screaming for it to come.


	7. Chapter 7

**Title**: The State of Kings

**Main Characters**: Natara W., Mal F., Chandler M.

**Synopsis**: One thing stands between this type of love. Well, two things. First, place. They weren't in the same place. They were too far away for her liking. Second, people. And that's where he came into play.

**Inspiration**: "And so beneath the weight lay I; And suffered death, but could not die."

-Edna St. Vincent Millay

**Author's Note**: Okay, this chapter might be a slighter higher rating. Maybe T. It's a little, tiny bit graphic. Sorry. :(

So I know it's August and I'm not even back in school yet, let alone ready for Christmas break, but I've been thinking about Christmas a lot lately. Since I'm fifteen, I don't usually buy presents for all of my relatives. But as I was thinking about what I want for Christmas (one of the things being a This Star Won't Go Out bracelet. All proceeds to said foundation. It was started by Esther's family after she died of cancer.), I realized that I want to give my family the gift of giving as well. They aren't notoriously giving or generous people, and they'll probably be rather wary of this gift because they're average people who won't think it is a sufficient present, but I really want to get them Kiva gift cards. And I felt like sharing that with you, because Kiva is an amazing website and you should check it out and give other people the gift of giving as well this year. Enjoy the story. c:

_Dedicated to anyone who has ever been hurt or heartbroken. Dedicated to the current reader of this chapter, because I know we have all suffered pain._

**Chapter Seven**:

My voice is hoarse from screaming and all I want to know is how long it's been. All I want is for it to stop.

I never knew that someone could consistently cry for this long. Or that something could hurt this bad when it isn't physical pain. My wrists are cut from the rope and bleeding, and they still feel like a stubbed toe to the pain that I feel watching Mal.

I just want her to stop hurting Mal. Anything for her to stop.

I've screamed this to her time and time again, but she doesn't stop. She keeps finding new ways to hurt him. She's cut him and slapped him and every other form of torture I could imagine, even some I'd never even fathomed.

At some point - it feels like nearly five hours later - I lose my voice. She looks up to see why there was a sudden absence of pained shrieking and sobbing. She grins evilly, seeing I am still struggling, but my mouth moves and no sound comes out.

Mal slumps into an immobile clump on the ground and I can see he is lying in what is quite obviously a pool of his own blood. Genevieve walks over to me.

She puts her face up directly in front of mine and I struggle to scream at her more, but I can't. I want to tell her this is doing the opposite of getting me to help her. Tell her that this makes me want to kill less, want to stop people like her.

"See honey? Now that you're quiet, we can get somewhere," she says cheerily and I muster up the greatest scowl I can, but she just laughs.

I have never wanted the ability to speak more than I do right now.

"I'm done with him," Genevieve says, waving carelessly at the Mal-shaped lump on the ground. "Just throw him outside. He's done anyway."

I breathe in sharply.

"No, no, Natara," Genevieve says, looking at me. "He isn't dead, but really, what hope is there at this point?" She smiles. "Your turn."

My turn? For...?

"You didn't think that was for your benefit, did you?" She laughs. "I didn't do that to him because of you. I didn't actually believe you would react so strongly. I admit it was unexpectedly helpful."

If she didn't hurt Mal to hurt me, then what was she...?

Oh. I guess she thinks this hurts me, and I admit it stings. I assume this is how much it hurt Mal, which just opens that painful hole in my heart again.

If she thinks this is pain enough to eclipse what I was just forced to watch, I'll be fine.

I open my mouth and to test my voice again, but only a slight croak escapes. Genevieve notices what I'm doing.

"What is the matter with you?" She studies me for a moment, and laughs when she realizes I still can't answer her.

What she does next is pretty awful, and I would explain it all in detail, but I don't really want to relive it all. And I don't think you deserve to be subjected to that kind of pain, even just hearing it.

Let's just say that there was a lot of screaming, and knives on throats, and I still couldn't talk, but she told me to talk, and every time I couldn't she would drive the knife in deeper.

I don't really want my voice back anymore, because I don't trust myself to use it.

I'm not sure how much longer this goes on, but there comes a point where I'm sure if she presses on the knife any harder, she'll be sure to become a murderer like her children, and then I can't see anything anymore.

I don't think this is death. Everything is really white and bright and there are a lot of yells and I get shoved away from the knife and I hear Genevieve shrieking to her two children.

Then I can see again.

"Natara." Chandler's pitying tone is nothing compared to the look that is in his eyes when he sees me. "Natara, we're going to get to to safety, okay?"

I nod and point to my throat, but I get distracted in the process. My arm looks terrible. There are so many cuts and scratches that I can't count them all. Did she scratch me too? No, I think I was digging my fingernails in when I was watching Mal. They look terrible, let alone my wrists and probably the rest of me.

"You can't talk?" Chandler says, visibly upset. "Okay. Okay, the ambulance is about thirty seconds away. We found Mal outside, but I don't know, Nat. He looks...bad."

I have an odd feeling that is his way of telling me that he is already good as dead, but I don't think about it too much.

The original pain of seeing Mal being hurt was fading and my own injuries were being felt to their full glory.

I black out.


	8. Chapter 8: The End

**Title**: The State of Kings

**Main Characters**: Natara W., Mal F.

**Synopsis**: One thing stands between this type of love. Well, two things. First, place. They weren't in the same place. They were too far away for her liking. Second, people. And that's where he came into play.

**Inspiration**: Thomas Edison's last words were, "It's very beautiful over there." I don't know where "there" is, but I believe it's somewhere and I hope it's beautiful. Like you.

**Author's Note**: Well this took an unexpected turn. Damn these characters and their tendency to get themselves into such trouble! I apologize for them in advance. Review anyway?:c

_Dedicated to Christine and Clarissa. Because they deserve perfect lives too. ;*_

**Chapter Eight**:

They tell me what he said. We are in different hospital rooms, so we can't see each other yet. He isn't doing well at all, but as soon as he is conscious, he wants to know how I found him.

I got his phone call, they say. I pieced it together.

But they tell me what he says.

"I didn't call anyone," he says. "My phone was broken."

I lie for hours on end in this hospital, this place I hate. There is nothing to do here but think. And as most of my thoughts are negative, or afraid, or angry, I try to occupy myself with memories and facts.

"How will I ever get out of this labyrinth of suffering?" Simon Bolivar said. Those were his last words. And I think of the note in the used biography that was written next to those words.

Straight and fast.

Eventually, I can stand up. And when I can, the first thing I do is sneak over to Mal's room. He's sleeping, but restlessly, so he wakes when he hears my footsteps.

"Hey," he says. His voice is still hoarse.

I nod and take his hand.

"I don't get it, Nat. I didn't call you."

My eyes drop to the floor. I shake my head slightly and a tear escapes my right eye. I don't understand it either.

"Do you hear it, too?" he asks quietly, and I meet his eyes again, confused. I tilt my head to the side slightly in question. "The screams."

The screams. Of course I still hear them. My screams, his screams, Genevieve telling me to talk. I hear it all, awake or asleep. I nod slowly. Of course I still hear them.

"They probably didn't tell you," he says. "They don't want you to get upset. But they don't think I'll make it."

It's only been about a day since Chandler brought backup and saved us, or I think so, anyway. My sense of time passing is still on edge. We're both still covered with some dirt and dried blood. They were afraid to move us too much to clean us up yet.

I shake my head again. He would live. He has to, I didn't do that for nothing.

"Natara," he starts again, but I cut him off by leaning down to meet my lips with his.

How long has it been since we've kissed like this? Only four or five days? It seems like an eternity as he moves his lips with mine.

Someone finds me and pulls us apart. Someone takes me back to my room. In my memory, that kiss never ends. No one interrupts, and we kiss like that with me leaning over his bed forever.

Every morning I wake up and try to speak. Every morning I can't.

It's been a week and I'm feeling a bit better...well, cleaner at least. They've let me shower and change into my regular clothes because I was "impossible to deal with otherwise".

Two weeks, three.

I shape my lips to form his name again as the doctor comes into my room. I do this every morning, and she always knows what I'm asking. She always just shakes her head. I can't see him. No progress on his condition, but nothing worse has happened either. Three weeks. I'm not the patient kind of person.

But today she doesn't shake her head when she comes to check on me and I ask my unspoken question again. She just stares at me unmovingly, her eyes blank.

"Mal," I struggle again and finally a light rasp escapes my lips. The doctor looks mildly shocked, but still doesn't shake her head. "Mal."

She nods slowly. A nod? What does a nod mean? What does she think I'm asking?

"Mal."

I spend another month and a half in the hospital, and they grow more worrisome every day. I don't feel myself deteriorating, but I suppose I must be, because their expressions get darker every day.

I can still feel the last kiss we shared hovering on my lips. The way it tasted: like blood and sweat and tears and relief. They say he'll never be quite the same, partly because of the shock, and partly because of the actual damage done to his body, but he can still live. I want so badly to hug him, to kiss him, to comfort him. I want so badly for this to not be all my fault.

But it will always be my fault. It will always be my fault that 1. He can't have a normal life and 2. He has to live with pain for the rest of his life and 3. I can't help him and 4. I make it harder for him because 5. I am dead.

The End.


	9. Epilogue

Title: The State of Kings

Main Characters: Natara W., Mal F.

Synopsis: One thing stands between this type of love. Well, two things. First, place. They weren't in the same place. They were too far away for her liking. Second, people. And that's where he came into play.

Inspiration: "I spend fifty-seven years loving you, my friend, so I guess it all makes sense at the end." -Hank Green

Author's Note: I know this is mildly dumb and lame and whatnot, but I couldn't help myself. I realized I never wrote a chapter about Christmas and I had actually planned to, so then I felt bad. It isn't exactly a Merry Christmas, but I hope you like it. Poor Mal. Poor Natara. :(

Epilogue:

There are strings of popcorn and ornaments strewn and hung haphazardly in any space they could reach. There is a tree twice the size of a normal person sitting in the corner overseeing the event. A table is placed off to the side with cups of drinks and snacks for the guests. But that is what is missing: guests.

For the first time in years, the San Francisco Police Department's precinct is eerily still and silent. The annual Christmas party extravaganza is abandoned.

Instead every officer, every detective, every forensic tech and agent sits in a small building just three blocks down. There are thirty-six chairs in a six-by-six square in the small room. Everyone talks quietly, mostly about the past. Everyone is fairly comfortable except for one man that stands away from the rest, visibly out of place. Chandler Tobias Matton.

"Would anyone like to speak before we begin?"

Mal Fallon begins to raise a hand and step forward, but before he is noticed, Chandler speaks.

"I would."

He walks past the crowd of people so large that they didn't have enough chairs. He walks through the people that don't know him, don't know why he is here, don't know who he is. Mal's is the only face that shows recognition, but he doesn't look there for a friendly face.

"Natara Williams was amazing," Chandler begins. "She was not only the best partner I've ever had, but she was just an amazing person. She was understanding and caring and selfless and kind. She was beautiful but honest and wanted nothing more but to help everyone around her."

Mal's eyes hardened.

"I hardly knew her, and she left such a mark on my life that I'll never forget her, and I never want to. She was the most perfect, amazing woman I've ever and will ever know." Chandler looks to the table to his left that is strewn with flowers. "I loved her so much."

It takes several people to restrain Mal from causing a scene, which is impressive as he is still recovering.

"My turn," he says roughly and shakes them off.

"I would talk about how great of a person Natara was," Mal says. "But that's not what she would want." He looks at the table to his left, then, as well. "Nat, you meant everything to me. I hate that we fought so much. I hate that we were friends too long. We waited too long, love. We could have had so much longer. We were perfect. I'm going to miss you so much, but I want you to know that I'll be okay. I'm going to make it. For you, Nat. Always for you. I don't know how you found me and I don't know how I got out of that. I never would have without you. And I just want you to know..."

Mal stops and pulls a box out of his pocket. He opens it before stepping out from behind the small podium and standing in front of the table beside him, consumed by flowers. He picks a small ring out of the box and slides it on her small, lifeless finger.

"I love you, Nat."

There's a difference between love and desire, between grief and longing. I'll never get to tell Mal that I love him too, that I always will. I'll never get to thank Chandler for braving the crowd of strangers just to say goodbye. I'll never get to apologize for breaking my promise of returning to my friends for Christmas, or tell my parents I'll miss them, or assure my sister that she'll be okay without me. I'll never get to see the day that Genevieve Collins gets taken down for good.

I always used to wonder what life after death would be like. Would there be a Heaven where nothing hurt, where I would be eternally happy? Would I be reincarnated into another person and be given the chance to continue helping people on earth and making it a better place to live? Would I just forever be blissfully unaware, forever stuck in oblivion, a dreamless sleep?

I know I'm not the only one that used to wonder about that, and with my job, death tends to be an immediate option. But the only way to know is experience, and now I finally have that answer as well.

When you're dead, it doesn't matter anymore. You aren't existing, you aren't being. You aren't with your family or your friends or the person you love more than anything else in the world. It doesn't matter anymore, and that truly is sad.

Maybe some people are afraid of that unawareness, that cold, endless oblivion. But I'm alright with it for the moment.

They might not know the answers of life and death.

I do.


End file.
